


Partners

by Kangofu_CB



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, just straight smut, literally no redeeming qualities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Duo is on a mission with one of the other pilots, waiting in a hotel for a call from their informant.  Smut ahoy!





	Partners

“Could you  _ please _ ,” ground out the voice of his partner for this sad excuse of a mission, “put on some clothes.”

 

Duo turned, surprised, to look at the other man.

 

They’d been stuck in this shitty hotel room for days,  waiting for contact from their informant.  There were two beds, a small, battered desk, and a bathroom you couldn’t turn around in, much less change clothes. It had become obvious early on that they’d have to resort to stripping in the room and stepping into the shower before repeating the process in reverse.  Hell, when Duo sat on the toilet, his knees touched the wall.

 

Which would be impressive if he were taller than 5’10”.

 

Needless to say, modesty wasn’t on the menu.  Though they’d made every effort to offer some semblance of privacy, turning around while the other changed, that sort of thing.  It was the illusion of privacy, and they both knew it, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. 

 

Not that Duo had ever been particularly body shy.  He’d spent his childhood on the streets, adolescence on a ship full of men, and been trained as a teenage terrorist in a very unforgiving environment before taking up arms in the Preventers, where he’d shared barracks and communal showers with every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the organization before he’d finally,  _ finally _ finished what passed for training and gotten an apartment.

 

Still, he hadn’t done all that with the man currently being forced to cohabitate with him.

 

They’d deliberately split all the pilots up for Preventers training, citing some bullshit about them ‘forming relationships outside their peer group’ which had all of them rolling their eyes.  They hadn’t even really had relationships with one another, bound by common purpose and not much else, but it had become apparent rather quickly that there was no one else able to keep up, much less compete with them on the training grounds.

 

Not to mention, there’d been a few attempts by other cadets to ‘prove themselves’ against a Gundam pilot.  Those hadn’t ended well.  

 

For the cadets, at least.

 

As soon as basic had been completed, they’d been regrouped into an elite team and left basically to their own devices.

 

Now, nearly ten years after the Mariemaia incident, they had the highest solve rates in the organization, and an official memo stamped ‘does not play well with others’.  Duo probably did better than the others, with the possible exception of Quatre, but that wasn’t saying much.

 

Not that any of them cared.  They found all the camaraderie they needed or wanted with each other.

 

Well, except for  _ certain aspects _ of their lives.  Duo didn’t know what the others did, but he kept his own affairs short, casual, and  _ private _ .

 

The throat clearing across the room dragged him from his thoughts.  Duo shook his head, bemused.  “Sorry, man.  Not much I can do about it.  Gimme a sec.”  He’d wrapped a towel around his waist in the bathroom, but like everything else in this piece of shit hotel, it was less than luxurious, and he was barely able to get it tucked around him.  Every time he moved a long strip of flesh peeked out of the edges.  He bent to dig clean clothes out of his duffel.

 

He heard a muffled sound near the desk.  “You say something?” he called, still digging.  Fuck.  Pretty sure he was out of clean underwear.  

 

Goddammit.

 

He tugged his jeans up over his hips resignedly, tossing the towel on his bed.  Duo hated going commando in denim.  He didn’t bother to snap them, preferring to leave that torture for the last possible moment, and began dragging a brush through his barely-drier-than-soaking hair.  The blow dryer had never worked and, despite several calls to the front desk, it had also never been replaced.  He didn’t bother to put a shirt on, knowing his hair would soak it in minutes and it’d be hours before it dried.

 

Tossing the brush aside, he reached up to start braiding the soaking mass.  “We gotta find a laundromat or something man, I’m havin’ to freeball it in these damn jeans.”

 

This time the sound near the desk was a choked off wheeze.  

 

Duo turned, confused.  “You ok?”  He tied off the end of his hair as he studied his friend. He took in the flushed cheeks, eyes studiously avoiding him, tense shoulders.  

 

He walked over, dropping a friendly hand on broad shoulder.  Duo was totally flummoxed.  They’d been doing this same dance for days, and this was the first time he’d seen a problem, any kind of issue.    “Hey, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or whatever.”  

 

The other man turned to look at him, opening his mouth to speak, and froze, eyes trailing down Duo’s body, pausing at the snap on his pants.  A calloused hand reached out, gingerly touching the ragged scar along his hip, souvenir from a knife fight years ago.  Duo was covered with a dozen or more such scars, relics of a violent past, not to mentions swirls of colorful ink.  He’d found something like nirvana under the buzz of a tattoo gun and his torso showed the results.  He kept it above the elbow, above the knee, per uniform regulations, but within those boundaries, his body was a canvas, his heart and mind permanently etched onto his skin.  Calloused fingers trailed over words inked onto his ribs.

 

Most people didn’t get to see it, especially now that he’d gotten an apartment and some privacy.  Most of the time, he even fucked in the dark.  Not that he was embarrassed, or even particularly private about it, just cautious in the same way that all the pilots were.  If no one saw your identifying marks, no one could identify you, after all.

 

But their situation, and the lack of personal boundaries between the five of them, meant that here, now, this man was admiring a lot of deeply personal shit.

 

Mentally shrugging, Duo let him look.  He was one of four other people on the planet who could even come close to understanding him.

 

“You want I should turn around?  You can see the back?”

 

The other man nodded, wordlessly, swallowing audibly. 

 

Duo turned in place, pulling his hair over his shoulder, letting him look his fill.  The same hand that had rested on his hip reached out to touch his shoulder.  Duo thought about where it landed, remembering what was tattooed there.

 

“Is this…?”

 

“Yeah,”  Duo cleared his throat, “when Wing self-destructed.”

 

“You drew it?”

 

He nodded, but didn’t speak.  

 

Another glancing touch, high on his spine.  “Deathscythe’s serial number.”

 

A firmer stroke, below his left shoulder blade.  He couldn’t speak for a moment, throat closed off by emotion.  He cleared his throat again, swallowing hard.  “Maxwell Church,” he wheezed.

 

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, offering comfort, forehead bent to press against the back of his neck.  He relaxed into the embrace, just enough.  Accepted the minimal amount of support he allowed himself. 

 

Warm lips glanced across his spine.

 

Oh.

 

_ Oh. _

 

He shuddered as that mouth moved across his shoulders, tongue darting out to sample the skin there.

“You sure you wanna do this?” his voice was low, gravelly, already heavy with lust.  He’d thought about this, of course he had, he didn’t think anyone could look at any of the Gundam pilots without thinking about what it’d be like to go to bed with one, but thinking,  _ fantasizing _ , wasn’t the same as reality.  No one knew that better than the pilots themselves.

 

And this particular pilot… well, Duo could admit to, perhaps, a recurring fantasy or two. A certain  _ fascination.  _

 

An affirmative hum answered him, along with the graze of teeth at his neck.  “Unless you’re not?”

 

Duo chuckled, darkly.  “Oh no, I wanna do it.”  He turned within the embrace, mouth roughly meeting the other man’s.  One or both of them groaned, Duo wasn’t even sure.  He yanked, impatiently, at the hem of the shirt covering his partner - his soon-to-be lover! 

 

The shirt disappeared and Duo reached, greedily, for uncovered skin, as scarred as his own, but hot and firm and covering delicious muscle.  He crowded them back, shoving him against the desk.  Instead of lifting onto the edge, what he wanted, expected, to happen, the other man resisted, muscling Duo backwards into the bed behind him, and they both fell, tumbling onto it’s surface.

 

It dawned on Duo, suddenly, that this was a man he didn’t have to be careful with, that could meet him exactly as he was, strength on par with his own.  Who could take anything he could dish out, and return it in equal measure.

 

As he reached for broad shoulders, rolling up into full body contact, the thought was heady, intoxicating. Strong arms braced themselves above his head, his mouth plundered, as hips thrust against his own, both of them moaning, panting.  

 

Breaking away, that hot, talented mouth trailed its way along his jaw, pausing to nip at his earlobe, moving down his throat, nipping across his collarbone.  A hot tongue traced the whorl of scarring from an old bullet wound, teeth grazed a nipple, as a hand came to rest on his hip, fingering that same knife wound from years past. More hot, sucking kisses across his chest and stomach, dipping into his navel, and now both hands were busy at his waist, divesting him of the jeans he’d just put on less than half an hour previous.

 

There was a pause whilst his almost-lover admired more ink uncovered, then he leaned down to tongue the elaborate rosary he found there, where hip and thigh met.

 

Duo hissed his approval, reaching down, threading his fingers through surprisingly soft hair.  He tugged, demanding, and got an approving hum and chuckle in response.

 

“Something I can do for you?”

 

“I can think of a few things, yeah,”  Duo replied, breathless, as that devious tongue trailed its way towards his throbbing erection.

 

“Something like this?”  Hot, wet sensation blazed up his cock, as he was licked from base to tip.  

 

His hips bucked as he groaned, his fingers tightening in the hair still gripped in his fist.  “Fuck yes, like that.”  He tugged again, sensed rather than heard the vibration of laughter.  His wish was granted, however, and that was all he cared about, as he was enveloped in scorching heat, lips, tongue, and the barest graze of teeth working in conjunction to drive him crazy.  He couldn’t stop the instinctive reaction to thrust, and he didn’t even try, just riding the sensation out, panting helplessly.

 

It didn’t last long enough, only a dozen thrusts, before he was released, a grunting protest escaping his throat.

 

“Turn over.”

 

Duo rushed to comply, rolling eagerly, coming up on his knees, leaning on his forearms.  He heard a groan of appreciation behind him, threw a knowing smirk over his shoulder, as the other man stood, shucking off his own pants, tossing them aside.  A warm hand trailed over his back, down his ass, thumb brushing against his entrance.  He shuddered, eyes drooping.  It pressed forward, just a bit, and he arched into it, moaning.

 

“Do you have lube?”

 

Blinking, Duo forced his mind to work.  “Uh, no?  Wasn’t plannin’ on any of this.”  He turned to look over his shoulder at the other man, who looked frustrated.

 

He could understand the sentiment, feeling a little frustrated himself.  He wracked his brain.  Lube, lube, what could they use for lube?

 

Ah! 

 

“There’s, ah, A&D in my bag.”  He’d bought a tube, ages ago, for his last tattoo.  Hopefully it didn’t have an expiration date.

 

He received a sharp nip on his back, another brush of fingers in response.  “Don’t move,” came a husky admonition, and he was happy to comply.  He heard rustling in his bag, and then the bed dipped under the returning weight of his partner.  He opened his mouth to speak and then-

 

He felt hot breath on his back just before a wicked tongue dived down, dragging along his spine, in between his cheeks to flicker against his entrance.

 

“Oh, fuck!”  He dropped his head all the way down, forehead pushed down against the mattress, hips undulating against the other man’s face.  The erection that had been flagging during their brief lube-finding interlude returned with a vengeance, and he reached down to take it in hand, when his wrist was stopped by a firm grip.  He could feel breath blowing over him, and he shuddered, as a husky voice said, “I’ll take care of that.”

 

The hand that was holding his wrist let go, reaching for his cock instead, mouth returning to it’s previous task of driving him absolutely fucking  _ insane _ , petting and teasing him, swirling in and out of that tight ring of muscle, imitation of the act to come.

 

Dirty, filthy things fell from his lips, interspersed with a name, repeated like a prayer, and he was so goddamn close-

 

When the other man stopped, leaning back, squeezing his cock at the base to stave off his impending orgasm.

 

“No, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!”

 

Another chuckle, though this one sounded almost as breathless as Duo felt, and he let go of Duo’s dick, thumb returning to pet and tease him, this time coated with something slippery.  He pushed in and Duo pressed back, made a motion to reach for his cock again.

 

And was stopped by a strong hand, pressing down between his shoulderblades, forcing him to rest his weight on his arms, preventing him from touching himself.

 

Duo groaned, loudly.  

 

There’d never been anyone in his bed strong enough to hold him down, and  _ damned  _ if he didn’t like it.

 

Two fingers replaced the thumb, stroking deep, scissoring him open, and that arm held him down and all he could do was take it, and it was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever experienced in his widely varied and frankly, adventurous, sex life.  He could barely breathe, and then a third finger joined the party, brushing up against the bundle of nerves inside of him that made it that much more electric-

 

**“Ohmigod!”**

 

He almost came, except the fingers backed off immediately, and he whined- he fucking  _ whined _ and Duo Maxwell had never whined for anything in his whole goddamn life - and then the fingers were gone and something better was pushing against him, wide, and firm, and forcing its way inside and he was whining  _ again _ in urgency, as the other man slid inside of him and he bucked up to meet him- or tried to.  That arm was still holding him in place as he was penetrated, and finally,  _ finally _ he was as full as he could ever remember being and the hand on his back moved, slid up into his hair and pulled and-

 

“Holy fucking shit!”

 

He never let anyone touch his hair, but he’d make an exception for this man, this one man, and by god it was worth it, and then he was being slammed into, hard cock reaching that place inside him, brushing up against it, and his partner pulled him up onto his knees, arm wrapped around his waist, reaching for his cock and pounding into him and Duo was seeing stars-

 

Teeth nipped his earlobe, and he thrust back against the man holding him, forward into the fist wrapped around his dick, and all he could do was breathe and barely even that and then the universe exploded into pretty lights and blinding pleasure, his pulse and his partner’s stuttering breaths roaring in his ears.

 

He was barely aware of the final thrusts and shout of the other man, lost in his own pleasure, arms scrambling for something, anything to hold onto, and then he was being lowered to the mattress, spooned up against, a softening erection slipping out of him.

 

For long, long minutes there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, slowly coming back to normal, and Duo’s heartbeat pulsing in his own ears.

 

Then warm lips were trailing across his shoulders again, a hand resting against his ribs, their feet tangled on top of the blankets as they cooled off in the lazy breeze from the ceiling fan.

 

Duo rolled over for languid kisses and matching strokes, sweat drying on their skin.

 

He opened his mouth to ask why they hadn’t done this  _ years _ ago, when the phone rang. 

 

The burner phone, the one their contact was expecting them to answer.  He fumbled for it, bringing it to his ear, his eyes still tracing the other man’s face, his free hand reaching up to follow.

 

“Yeah?”

 

He listened, his thumb tracing kiss-swollen lips, fingers brushing unruly hair out the way. 

 

“Alright.  We’ll be there.”

 

He hung up, tossing the phone over to the other mattress, leaning in for a forceful, plundering kiss.

 

“We’re meeting him at 43rd and Jones in 15 minutes.”  He helped himself to another kiss.  “And then, after, we can come back here for round two.”

 

He said it like a statement, but there was a question behind it.  Eyes crinkled, a pleased smile spreading across the other man’s face. He got another kiss in response, and then they were up in a flurry of movement, throwing on clothes and collecting weapons.

 

Just before they walked out the door, Duo pinned him to the wall, hands trailing over hips, to grip his firm cheeks.  “But I get to be on top this time, yeah?”

 

Another one of those warm, lust-filled chuckles he was coming to love.  “Whatever you want.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ChronicWhimsy for the beta, as always. I don't know what I would do without you <333
> 
> Also thanks to Manny for the feedback!!! You always give me more credit than I deserve ;) 
> 
> No other real notes here, because this is just shameless smut. My muse called for a smutty hotel fic, and I couldn't decide on a partner, so I didn't! I wanted to call it reader's choice XD


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